After Time
by Dark Marx Soul
Summary: A familiar face awakens in the Underwhere, his memory lost, his past a blur. He knows not where he is, or what he has done, but in time he will remember … remember the crimes, the pain, and the people he left behind. Functions as a potential one-shot "sequel" to "The Chaos Trilogy", a three-installment fan fiction written from 2009-13. "After Time" was originally written in 2013.


It took some time for him to realize that he was thinking again.

His mind, weighed down with the fatigue of oversleep and muddled from suddenly existing once more, was active. The world was a whirlpool of sensations; he could see scents, feel colours, and taste textures. A figure stood over him, a purple blur mixing with the grey and dark blue that he somehow registered via his ears.

The figure spoke, but it came out as a garbled mess of foreign and indescribable pricks on his body. He groaned, and the tired noise was like pepper on his tongue.

As time passed, things began to normalize. The sensations slowly moved into place, and he became just barely aware that he was lying on rock; hard, rough, and cold against his bare skin. His moans of confusion rose over the sounds of water dripping onto stone and the echoes of figures shuffling along, their bodies scraping against the ground.

 _"At...ou hav...oken..."_ Snippets of the figure's words made their way into his ears and he turned his head to look at them; they were still a blur.

He curled up into a ball, clutching his knees with his hands. Where was he? What happened? He was so cold. This place was horribly, horribly cold. He couldn't remember anything, and his body was hurting him. Dull aches pulsed through all of his limbs, his torso and his head as his nervous system worked again for the first time in a very long time.

He just laid on the floor for a short while, trying to stabilize his breaths and force back the pain in his body. Why did he hurt so much?

"Are you functioning?" The voice, suddenly clear, cut through his skull with its noise. He clenched his eyes shut and gripped the sides of his head tightly with his hands. He tried to speak, but all that came out was incoherent babbling. "Clearly not."

"Stop talking!" he suddenly shouted, then regretted it as his own voice screamed against his eardrums.

Eventually the pain subsided enough that his breaths were slow and calm. "You can speak?" the figure asked him. He found himself nodding, a gesture he knew meant 'yes', but he didn't know why and he didn't even know what 'yes' meant, though its meaning was formulating in his mind.

"Where...?" he choked, then coughed hoarsely. The figure stooped down; they were holding a cup made of dark stone filled with some sort of substance. They put it against his mouth and he found that it was 'water', and he knew he needed this 'water' to survive for some reason. He drank quickly, savouring the liquid moving down his throat. He could feel a wealth of information and knowledge just out of reach in his brain, and he struggled mentally to access it.

"It has been a long time," the figure told him. "A very, very long time." Their voice was female, and laced with sadness. She grasped his arm firmly and helped him sit up. He looked at her; she was a pale-faced woman with long, purple hair that extended well below her feet, shrouded in a dark cloak that covered her body. A tall, spiked crown, purple and black, was on her head, jutting up like spikes.

"Who are you...?" he whispered. Then, he had a horrifying thought and his heart leapt. "Who am I?"

"You will remember with due time," the woman said to him. She motioned with her hand into the shadows and a small man came forth carrying dark robes. "Put these on, they will keep your warmer here."

He realized that he wasn't wearing anything on his body. He took the robes and put them over himself, enjoying the heat they offered him. "Thank you..." He shook his head. "How long will it take...?"

"I do not know the answer to that question." The woman stood up, extending a hand. "Can you stand?"

He took her hand and, with her help, stood on his feet, shaking. He fell with a cry, his legs unused to holding his weight. She helped him up once more; this time he stayed up. She turned around, motioning for her to follow him. "I...I cannot walk," he told her.

"You can." She held his wrist with her bony hand. "I will help you for now."

With unsteady feet, they began to walk throughout the cavernous place. It was covered in rocks, with stalagmites and stalactites jutting from the floor and ceiling. Odd beings slithered around that looked like worms made out of shadow.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked her. "Who are you?"

"I am taking you to the fountain, to restore your strength," she answered. "As for your second question...I am Jaydes."

"Where is this?"

"This is a place known as the Underwhere. It houses the souls of the deceased."

A chill went up his spine. "De...deceased...?" Jaydes nodded. "Am I deceased?"

She shook her head. "Once upon a time, you were far more than deceased, but now you will be very much alive."

"I don't understand..."

"You will remember. Be patient."

She led him to a fountain that spewed a strange, orange liquid. She motioned into it, and he stepped over the side and into the water. It lapped at his heels, spreading a soothing coolness over them. He submerged his entire body into it, feeling strength seep into his tired being. When he emerged from underneath and stepped out, he was able to stand without aid.

"I want to know what happened here," he demanded to Jaydes. "I cannot remember anything."

She shook her head. "I apologize, but I cannot tell you. It would be too much for you to take in."

He felt frustration in his chest and he bore his teeth. "Then what must I do?"

"Do you remember how to travel between dimensions?" she asked him. "It is an ability you know well."

He looked at his hands, pale white in the darkness. In the back of his mind, a memory seemed to surface. "I...I do. I remember how." He waved his hands, using his knowledge to move the space around them.

"Good. You must follow your heart. You will find your way." The way she looked at him...he didn't like it. Her eyes looked into him with pity, and he could feel nervousness beginning to creep up into him. What wasn't she telling him?

He forced the dimensions around him to change. "I will follow it," he said. "I will find out what has happened here."

The last thing he saw was her nodding gravely as he rushed through the dimensions in a sick panic.

He emerged in a field. The scent of dusty air and yellow grass hit him first, then the feeling of the air on his skin. His robes billowed around him and he held them close. The sun was shining overhead, casting a bright light through the clouds that drifted across the sky.

"Hello?" he called, cupping his hands around his mouth. He was alone. Despite the noon sun sending its rays down upon him, he felt a chill.

Silently, seeing no other alternative, he started to walk. His feet brushed through the grass, the dry blades parting from his toes, and the wind whistled a lonely note that resonated within him.

After a time, he found a stream of clear water making its way through the land. His tongue suddenly felt dry and he ran to it, kneeling down and collecting some in his hands and drinking eagerly. It was cold and clean.

He stared at its surface, looking at the face reflected back at him. Pale white skin stood out against the dark riverbed, and long hair fell just against his shoulders, one half black, the other half white. His eyes were similarly dual in nature: one was a dull grey, the other a bright yellow.

A memory flashed before him and he yelled out, staggering back away from the stream. "No!" he cried, lashing out at a foe that wasn't there. "No, stop, don't—"

He was breathing deeply, his fists clenched. Hesitantly, he crawled up to the stream, staring at his own face. For just a moment, he swore he saw something else in there, another face that brought a primal fear with it.

He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he stared at himself. He was beginning to remember something. It was a girl, a girl with pink hair. For some reason, he could feel his eyes watering when he thought of her.

He got up and went on his way, trying to hold onto the memory as it slipped away.

The sun made its way across the sky as he walked, moving lower on the horizon. Soon, he saw something in the distance and realized it was a collection of buildings. He had happened upon a village.

Excitement shot through him and he ran towards it, then lifted off the ground and began to fly as if he'd known how to all along. A village meant people. Maybe someone could tell him who he was.

When he reached it, his hopes were dashed to the ground; it was deserted. The houses, made of wood, were dry and rotten. Stone paths were worn from footsteps and covered in dust, and the wind took on a sinister sound as it blew through the windows and holes in the buildings.

He turned; out of his peripheral vision, he swore he had seen someone. There was no one, though, no one but himself. He continued his trek through the village, and the sun had sunk even lower.

He stopped and stared; there was a house that stood out from the rest. In appearances it was completely normal, but something pulled him there. Warily, he entered through the open doorway.

It was just as dusty and dry as the rest. He pushed aside a small wooden table and rooted through the shelves. Small trinkets were hidden away behind doors; gems and necklaces, tiny mechanical items clogged with dirt and which no longer functioned, clothes of varying origins ripped and torn, the colour faded from them. He found a large item made of cloth, some sort of cloak or cape with shimmering fabric. He turned it around and his eyes widened with wonder at the stars that twinkled inside of it.

A horrible feeling suddenly took root in him and he dropped it, clutching his chest. Sorrow welled up in him and he clenched his teeth, shivering. No, that couldn't be here, it belonged to _him._ A figure passed through his mind he had never known, a man with dark blue skin and shining yellow eyes, adorned in that sparkling cape and a tall top hat...

He shook his head. "No, stop..." he groaned, backing up against a wall. More memories came with it, memories of dark walls and black torch flames, of men and women he knew were significant to him. He could see a man in purple robes, a disapproving glare fixed his way as he failed to conjure up magic...

He exited the house, shaking, not looking back. Terrible feelings were moving through him now, and he suddenly felt years piling onto his back, thousands of years. "What is this...?"

He was shambling along now, the sun ever lower. He moved as if fleeing from a mob, and he could almost feel shadows at his back, breathing down his neck. Voices whispered in his ear; gruff with a thick accent; sharp, formal, and cold; sweet and kind, yet defiant. Two more of the same shared accent came up, and another had the guttural growl of a monster.

One voice kept coming up more clearly, though. A female voice, one that kept saying a name. His name.

 _Dimentio._ The name sent chills through him and he kept his cloak close around him.

He was beginning to understand. All these people, all these places, were things that he had seen. Terrifying images surfaced, images of blood and death. He could feel a sticky liquid splattered over his body, but when he looked at his hands they were clean and free of any red.

Why, then, did he feel so covered in it?

His most recent memories were a dark blur, but the recurring people were there, he knew. He could only see a bright light over him, he could feel it burning his skin. At the same time, however, he could feel the joy it brought him, and the weight it lifted off his shoulders. He remembered himself fading into the light.

 _Once upon a time, you were far more than deceased..._

The sun was close to the horizon now, covering the sky in orange. The clouds wisped across the sky and cast dark shadows on the ground. There was that girl, too, the girl that kept coming up. She was important, very important. He grasped at her memory in his head, and the colour green came up. Green skin, green hair, and a voice that was sweet like honey but betrayed a sinister wickedness behind it.

He ran, away from the village. He didn't know why he was running, he didn't even know where he was going, but he had to run. He had to run from the demons chasing him close behind, run from the thoughts in his mind and the feelings in his heart. He remembered so much now, events that he had been at the centre of. So much death and despair. So many lives lost because of him.

 _Is this the world I have returned to...?_ he thought, terrified. _A world with darkness always peering around every corner?_

How long had it been since he faded? How many years had passed? Could the passage of time even be measured now? How many of the people he knew were still alive? Were the Heroes? Could they have died of old age in the time he had been gone? That cloak he had found in the house filled him with dread, and he suddenly felt a crushing sense of loss.

The girl. He could feel his heart swell at her memory. There was no doubt about it now; she was special to him. Irreplaceable. Was she alive? She had to be. She had to be alive.

He stopped and stared. Silhouetted against the setting sun, glowing red in its light, was a creature. Six giant, stick-thin legs jutted out from a small body, punctured deep into the ground. A large, bulbous head was at their centre, and from it the torso, arms, and legs of a small girl swayed as if hanging from a noose. As he approached it, he could see its mouth hanging open from the top of its head. Two of the spidery legs jutted out from the girl's eye sockets, which leaked some sort of fluid.

He was shaking. His eyes were wide, and he placed unsteady hands on the head of the thing; it was unmoving, still like a statue. He brushed his fingers across its bulging skin, brushing dust and grit off of its body; they grazed against metal, and he found gears sticking out from the back of its head, exposed to the elements. They had lost their sheen, and dried mud was caked inside of them, clogging up the cogs.

A horrible sorrow squeezed his chest and he fell to his knees, tears falling from his eyes. "N-no..." he breathed through his teeth. "Mi...Mimi, no..."

He had been gone for so long. Too long. Long enough that even immortality could not save someone. Long enough that the years would pile down upon them and rob them of any semblance of life or reason. Long enough that they would fade and remain behind like stone, bare against the wind and sun. Long enough that he would never have been able to see them smile again, or hear their voice, or hold them close, before they were lost.

He sobbed into the yellow grass, tasting the salt of his tears on his own tongue, cursing the world for bringing him back to nothing. He laid there, shadowed by the body of the girl which swayed in the wind, but was still.

 **Author's Remarks:**

 _After Time_ is a small one-shot written on a whim in 2013 that I neglected to publish here until very recently, conceived of as a possible "conclusion" for Dimentio after the events of _The Chaos Trilogy._ I had kept it to myself as just a private little activity, and didn't want to put it out there as I don't really regard it as "canon" for the events of the _Trilogy._

However, lately I have felt an interest surfacing. My accounts on FanFiction and deviantART have been gathering dust. I decided to post this one-shot here for anyone interested in them, as well as for any new readers who haven't read my trilogy before.

It's been three years since _The Chaos Trilogy_ ended. I haven't written as much as I would like in that time, but I would like to believe I have improved.

Maybe you'll get to see that sometime.


End file.
